Caveat Emptor
by Home
Summary: Whilst lying flat on his back, in pain, alone, in a dark murky cave a few thousand miles away from the hellmouth he calls home, Spike tries to remember exactly what was so great about Buffy Summers that'd make him do something so staggeringly stupid as ge


Title: "Caveat Emptor"  
  
Summary: (Short comedy sketch.) Whilst lying flat on his back, in pain, alone, in a dark murky cave a few thousand miles away from the hellmouth he calls home, Spike tries to remember exactly what was so great about Buffy Summers that'd make him do something so staggeringly stupid as get his soul back for her. Regret, but not necessarily of the kind you'd expect from a newly souled vampire...  
  
Rating: R for unrepeatable language. That's about it.  
  
Author's note: The title is a popular Latin motto that means "Let the Buyer Beware".  
  
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"Nrrrghh....... ueughhh..."  
  
(Silence)  
  
"UOWURGHHHhh...! Ohh.. ohbloodyfuckingHELL.. ARGHH!!!"  
  
Spike clamped his eyes closed as tight as he could without bursting a blood vessel and pressed the palms of his hands to his eye sockets. His head throbbed, his skin felt raw all over, like someone had used his head for a football before deciding it'd be much more fun to set him on fire. Then kick him. Repeatedly.  
  
"UERGHHHHhhhhh!"  
  
He summoned a reserve of energy that had been cowering stubbornly in a dark corner of his psyche and attempted to roll over. He wasn't sure why. Maybe he felt that the dramatic change of scenery (that of the roof of the cave as seen from behind his tightly closed eyes, to that of the floor of the cave as seen from behind his tightly closed eyes) might be refreshing. It wasn't. He lay still, now face down on the cave floor. He considered groaning again but decided it would require too much effort.  
  
Great Spike. Bloody great. You're a fucking genius. This was SUCH a good idea, you deserve every sodding minute of this. Fucking Nobel Prize winner of stupid ideas. Should've just handed the whelp back that fucking axe and wished him luck when you had the chance. Ahhh.. a beheading.. now doesn't that sound delightfully refreshing right about now? One quick swing and a chop. Problem solved... you big stupid wanker.  
  
He rolled, without enthusiasm, onto his back again and stared miserably at the stalactites that dripped from the ceiling. The red-eyed demon with the booming voice was nowhere to be seen. It had vanished, Spike assumed, sometime between inflicting the searing, mind-numbing pain and his regaining consciousness. Spike wondered casually if the demon had stuck around to gloat over the irreversible damage he'd inflicted on the moronically willing vampire. He imagined the demon dragging some of his mates in from the desert to have a laugh at the expense of the pathetic creature who was lying twitching on the floor of his cave.  
  
"Yeah! Actually WANTED his soul back, this one! Can you believe it? The dumb motherfucker!"  
  
He pictured the demon and his scaley mates gathered around his convulsing body, prodding it with dry sticks and giggling. He was sure he could hear the sound of their howling laughter still reverberating deep within the cave.  
  
Spike exhaled a long, unnecessary breath. I could kill for a cigarette...  
  
He immediately regretted the inner phrasing of that fleeting desire.  
  
Oh god...  
  
He wave of nausea hit him like a brick wall. He felt it well up in his stomach and wash over his whole being within the space of a few seconds.  
  
Oh GOD...  
  
He scowled fiercely trying to control his churning insides and pounding brain.  
  
Don't think, don't think, don't think, don't think, don't think...  
  
He started to think.  
  
Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. Oh god... Why? Oh for fucks sake WHY?? What was the POINT of this? What in the name of everything unholy could've possibly possessed him to do this? He'd sought this out?!? He KNEW.. he knew all along.. from the moment Clem had made that comment about "things change".. he knew how bad this would be. He did it anyway.  
  
He stood up, suddenly lying in one place inspired in him a great sense of stupidity. He swayed and staggered slightly at first, clutching the wall as he attempted to regain his balance. He felt sick. For the first time in a very long time, he felt truly sick. The silence in the cave was deafening. It seemed to be mocking him. He began to pace and talk to himself in an agitated voice to drown it out.  
  
"You are a bright one, Spike. Really, GIFTED."  
  
He snorted derisively and continued to pace, shaking his head. He stopped. Slammed his fist into the cave wall and winced in pain. It hurt a lot. He clutched his hand and examined it for broken bones. Finding none, he punched the wall repeatedly, as hard as he could, until all his fingers felt good and snapped. He stopped as his hand went numb and sighed.  
  
"Great plan, William. Brilliant. Smash yourself to a bloody pulp. That'll make the soul go away."  
  
The third-person Jiminy Cricket monologue was starting to make him feel paranoid and lonely. He changed his ranting style to something more self- analytical and continued apace.  
  
"I astound myself. I am truly phenomenal. They say "a fools bolt is soon shot" and how profoundly true that is. Of course I, King Moron of the Idiot Tribe, shot myself RIGHT IN THE BLOODY FOOT WITH IT! "  
  
Anger surging, he kicked some dirt with his boot. He stared at the dust as it swirled and resettled on the ground. He pursed his lips, clenched his teeth and went on.  
  
"I deserve to die.. no, I deserve to live, in pain, foever and ever. THAT is what I deserve for being this stupid. Buffy won't care.. why should she care? Why would she even believe me? What exactly did I think I was going to do now anyway? Turn up on her doorstep with a bunch of flowers and say "Hey! Guess what?" Like she'll even beleive me! "Oh you've got a soul now? Cool! All is forgiven! I love you, Spike! Saddle up, cuz I'm gonna ride you at a gallop right off into the bloody sunset! You and me, happily ever after.." Pur-lease.. how can I even prove it? Have the Scoobies give me a flashcard test? I'm such a fucking idiot. This won't even change anything... nothing can change anything."  
  
He suddenly felt depressed. Godawfully depressed. Nothing can change anything? Where did THAT little pearl of suicidal wisdom come from? He sighed again. That was all he seemed able to do with conviction now. Sigh. And he didn't even need to breathe.  
  
"No wonder the big poof mopes so much..."  
  
He started thinking about Buffy. In graphic detail. Bracing, full colour images of her danced naked in his brain. He frowned then frowned some more. A strange sensation came over him. What?  
  
"Buffy... "Buffy Summers: Super Slayer"... what the hell was so great about her anyway?!? She's cute, sure.. bouncy hair, bouncy..other stuff... veritable demon between the sheets.. but aside from that... WHAT THE HELL?! All this for THAT? Eternal torment for the sake of shagging her?! Pfft! It's not like she ever even cared! Not a whiff of it! In all those months.. did she even smile at me once? Not that I recall! Well, not that I really had my eyes open a whole lot.. she might've smiled at me... I mean, that thing she did with her tongue was very distracting... I defy anyone to keep their eyes from rolling back in their head when Buffy's attached to you and doing that... although, thinking about it, she probably wouldn't be able to smile while she's doing that...it'd be a bit impractical... but for fucks sake! Did she ever ask me how my day had been? No! Ever kiss me goodnight? No. Ever just want to snuggle? No! Bloody women... they're all alike."  
  
Spike scowled, suddenly realizing that he'd been gesticulating wildy at no- one in particular, not to mention sounding decidedly bitter about the whole affair, stopped and looked toward the entrance of the cave. The sun appeared to be setting over the desert, the remaining light was making the front of the cave glow orange. The shadows grew longer and the cave paintings were illuminated in all their gory detail. He looked at his broken and bloodied hand. It was already starting to heal. He felt a sudden new resolve. He snorted with contempt, lifted his chin and affected his well-practised sneer.  
  
"Fine. Yeah, y'know what? FINE! That's right. I can do this, it's not like I'm wanting for time.. I'll show the lot of 'em! That poofter Angel, Dru.. wherever she may be.. Buffy, the Lil Bit and all the bloody Scoobies. Fuck 'em! Fuck 'em all. From now until forever it's just me, myself and I. I can be good.. or I can be bad.. you never know, maybe I'll even decide to act like a normal person and try my hand at BOTH. It's a new beginning, a fresh start... I'll show the lot of 'em! I can do this.. no moping, no anguish, no getting drunk and passing out anywhere potentially flamable, no following any stupid women around like a lost puppy in search of his balls. This is the new Spike. All new and improved! Nobody controls this boy now! Not Buffy, not some stupid piece of silicon, not some inner demon.. William's behind the wheel now. I'm my own man. For better or worse. Nothing to prove to nobody. Just wait til I get back to Sunnydale and tell the Slayer. Yeah......."  
  
Spike puffed himself up and strode toward the exit with renewed verve.  
  
"That'll show 'em."  
  
  
  
~The End~ 


End file.
